Tomorrow Olive and I have our first Mommy and Baby Yoga Class at the studio where I attended yoga classes all of last year.
Well, most of last year, until I found out I was going to have to get a c-section, and refused to exercise anymore because what’s the point they’re just going to cut this baby out of me anyway i don’t care anymore sob sob sob.
Seriously, I stopped going to yoga because I figured I didn’t need to be stretching my hips and toning my pelvic floor if I wasn’t even going to birth my own damn baby. I’d take that $10/class and spend it on gelato thankyouverymuch.
And then I got diabetes! UGH.
Anyway. We have our first class tomorrow morning, unfortunately right in the middle of what is usually her morning nap. Hm. This could be interesting.
I wish I had a hilarious baby yoga outfit for Olive, like tiny little spandex pants stretched over her huge diaper butt, or a lycra tank top that her belly would be busting out of, but I failed to adequately provision for this type of activity, so she’s stuck wearing a boring old onesie and pants. I hope the other babies don’t laugh at her.
I too am struggling to find something to wear, something that doesn’t make me look like I birthed a baby and then spent the next three months binging on brownies.
Adam watched me try stuff on for a few moments before helpfully remarking: “I think you need bigger pants” and walking out of the room.
He walked like three steps, then stopped, and I think if I had listened a little harder I probably would have been able to hear his balls being sucked back into his body as he realized what he had just said. He retraced his steps, offered an apology and a cup of tea, then, inexplicably, and (probably?) unrelated, went out and bought a pair of camouflage pants.
I don’t know. It’s Adam.
Wish us luck tomorrow!